‘But you’re still alive.’

‘I have killed only one person in my life, and that was my own brother. I saved you the bother of doing it. You have no quarrel with me.’

‘Don’t I?’ said Louis. ‘You were there when De Jaager and the others died. You permitted the girl to torture Hendricksen.’

‘I could not have stopped it.’

‘You could have tried.’

‘I advised against all of it.’

‘I’m not sure that counts for a lot.’

Radovan stared at the gun in Louis’s hand.

‘I have money,’ he said.

‘I don’t need money,’ said Louis, ‘but I do need information.’

Radovan’s eyes suddenly shone with hope.

‘What kind of information?’

‘I want to know about the girl.’

‘Her name is Zorya.’

‘That I’m already aware of. Where is she now?’

‘Back in Serbia.’

‘Where in Serbia? Does she have family, friends?’

‘She has none of those things. If she ever did, they’re long dead.’

‘The question stands: Where in Serbia?’

Radovan hesitated.

‘Are you an honorable man?’ he said.

‘More honorable than you.’

‘Even so, why would I tell you anything? How will it aid me?’

‘If you tell me where the girl can be found,’ said Louis, ‘I won’t shoot you. You have my word.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Because if you don’t tell me, I will shoot you. Your scope for compromise is limited.’

Radovan nodded.

‘Ask after her in Bor or Negotin. Talk to the Vlachs. They’ll know where she’s hiding.’

‘Okay, then,’ said Louis. He put away the gun and produced a wire garrote with wooden handles. ‘Let’s get this done.’

‘No, you promised—’

‘You ought to listen better.’

Louis was fast, so very fast. A kick left Radovan flat on the floor, and then the garrote was being looped around his neck. Radovan managed to get the fingertips of his left hand under the wire, but it sliced them off before tightening on his throat. Louis’s knee was in his back, and the wire was cutting, severing. Radovan felt his skin give way, and the flesh succumbed.

Blood flowed, blood fountained.

Life ceased.

Angel was waiting for Louis at a table in the Test Kitchen, almost within sight of Oscar Frey’s now redundant office. The Test Kitchen figured in every list of the world’s best restaurants, and Angel and Louis had decided to try the place while they were in town. They’d booked the table weeks in advance, just as soon as Oscar Frey’s true identity had been confirmed. Louis was wearing a fresh jacket and shirt. His earlier attire couldn’t be saved, and was now burning in a barrel on waste ground. Louis didn’t mind. The jacket was three seasons old and had never fitted quite as well as it should have.